Some Leave, Some Come Back
by dear-broken-heart
Summary: [Post Rent] For Roger it's the end, for Mimi it still may be the beginning, and for Mark it may be the beginning of the end. Some are leaving, but some are coming back.


The room was dark, it was the way Roger liked it though, at least then he didn't have to see the ugly hospital walls.

He shared a room with Jack, the 58 year old former businessman dying of lung cancer. Jack watched television almost constantly. Roger often wondered if Jack had secretly watched soap operas his entire life.

"Days of our Lives" was just ending, and Roger was thankful as that meant it was almost meds time. He'd been there for only 4 days, but he already knew the hospital schedule. By the way the doctors mumbled, he figured he wouldn't have to suffer here another four.

He couldn't remember how he'd ended up at the emergency room that day. He remembered waking up that morning, having a cup of stale coffee, and figuring out the date off the three week old paper on the table. December 20th he figured after adding three weeks and two day's onto the old paper's date. He remembered leaving the apartment, but that was it. He woke up hours later in a hospital bed; his jacket was on a hanger in the closet, and that was all he had.

He tried to sit up as he heard the wheels of the med cart squeaking by, but he couldn't, the pain medicine from four hours before had worn off and moving was beyond painful.

The cart stopped at the door as the nurse filled 2 little cups with pills. Jack's was full to the brim with the multicolored medicine while Rogers contained exactly two pills--just pain medicine, because that was "all they could do."

The nurse propped Roger up with a pillow. Roger just stared at the ceiling while she did this, it was just that constant reminder that he had absolutely no dignity left. He thought of Mark as he swallowed the pills. Mark would watch him take his AZT everyday, stuffing the pill in his hand and shoving a glass of water in his face. That was before he left, though…

_Before Jessica._

_Before the rings._

_Before the real job. _

_Before the baby._

_Before the suburbs._

That was before he left to live the life had tried to escape all along.

"Sellout," Roger muttered.

"What was that Mr. Davis?" the nurse walked back across room towards the med cart after Jack was finished swallowing his 18-some-odd pills. When Roger didn't reply and looked away, she shrugged, "I'll be back in an hour with the AZT." Roger just looked down. What was the point of AZT anyway, it couldn't save him now.

* * *

The hallway was busy. It was Christmas Eve after all. From his angle Roger could see a few families walking by with presents. He secretly wished someone would come and visit. He had a glimpse of hope as footsteps neared the door, stopping just to the side, out of view.

"Here's Mr. Bowman's room." Roger's bit of hope was crushed, Jack had a visitor.

"Why is the light off?" Why does everyone always talk in hospitals like no one can hear them?

"His roommate, Mr. Davis, doesn't like the light on," the nurse whispered in reply. Everyone here always liked to make him sound 80 and incompetent.

Footsteps headed towards the doorway as a young couple entered the room. Jack turned and smiled. "Hey dad," the young man greeted Jack and gave him a hug. The woman he was with walked a little slower, joining the young man at Jack's bedside.

She had dark brown, curly hair, which was cut short framing her face. Roger watched her as she held the young man's hand tightly. She was wearing a long coat and still had on gloves. Her features were soft, but her dark brown eyes still stood out in the dim lit room. She looked familiar. _She looked like Mimi_.

"How's the new firm going, Dan?" Jack asked his son. His voice was raspy and a little weak.

"Good dad, let me get the light." Dan shot a glare at Roger as he walked to the light switch. "You want me to shut this?" Dan held the edge of the curtain just before he reached the light switch.

Roger quickly averted his eyes from the young woman. She still hadn't turned around. "No," Roger replied, his eyes quickly turning back to her, quite a bit to the dislike of Dan.

The lights came on and her familiar face came into view--her hair, her smile, her eyes. _Mimi._

"So when are you going to make this pretty lady a legitimate woman, Dan?" Jack joked.

"I asked her to marry me yesterday, actually." Dan glared at Roger for a split second as he grabbed the curtain. "She said yes." Mimi smiled and began to remove her glove to show Jack the ring. Just as Dan began to close the curtain encompassing Jack's bed, she glanced over at Roger, their eyes meeting for just a split second before the ugly pale blue curtain came between them.

Roger listened to them talking as he attempted to get over the initial shock. It'd been less than two years since he last saw her. Just two years. She almost died that Christmas Eve two years ago. He took care of her for half a year after that night. Exactly two days after their "six-month anniversary," she caught him. The needle was in his arm, there was no denying it. He'd fucked up and was willing to admit it. He still couldn't understand what had caused him to go back to heroine in those last few days. Maybe it was the pain of watching her that drove him to the drugs. Maybe it was because she wanted it so bad. Either way, it was another mistake.

They fought for a while, as far as Roger could remember. He couldn't recall what he'd said. All he knew was she left the room crying and locked herself in his bedroom for the rest of the night, her sobbing audible throughout the entire loft. He had passed out on the couch, and when he woke the next morning his jacket was missing and there was a note written in Mimi's handwriting on the wooden table.

_Goodbye, Love. _

That was also the day Mark met Jessica.

The day Collins got caught stealing.

The day Joanne kicked out Maureen for the last time.

_The day everyone started dying a little bit quicker. _

He didn't eat for a week after that. For the first time since they met, Mark didn't pick up the pieces. He went through withdrawal and relapse over and over again. He spent the next year trying to convince himself that he didn't do anything wrong. It worked for a while, but eventually he couldn't convince himself of the lies anymore.

Roger had given up listening to the conversation between Dan and Jack, he'd missed too much already. It wasn't long though before the mumbling ceased. Dan rolled the wheelchair that had been leaning up against the wall towards the bed.

"Do you want to go for a walk, dad?" he asked in that cheery, fake "everything's okay" voice people talk to their dying loved ones with. It made Roger sick…it reminded him of Mark.

"Do I have a choice?" Jack laughed until it turned into another brutal cough. Dan commenced operation fake smile as he helped Jack from the bed to the wheelchair, lifting the oxygen tank with it. Dan pushed back the ugly blue curtain.

"Why isn't Mimi coming with us?" Jack motioned to Mimi, who had just come into Roger's view as the curtain was pushed back. She was looking down.

"She's helping me with a little surprise." Dan stopped pushing Jack and retreated to where Mimi was standing by the bed. He put his hand under her chin, making her look up. He looked her in the eyes and then kissed her. Mimi's dark brown eyes never closed. She glanced over at Roger through much of the kiss, until Dan's lips broke away from hers. Mimi smiled weakly in reply, quickly looking down as Dan walked away.

Dan pushed Jack out of the room. "We'll be back in 45 minutes, babe," he called to her as he turned the wheelchair to the right and they headed down the hall.

Roger's glare could have burned a hole through her. Mimi stood still, silent for a few seconds before turning around and picking up a heavy Bloomingdale's "Large Brown Bag," which she had carried in when she entered with Dan. She set the bag on the bed and pulled out a string of Christmas lights and began untangling them.

He wanted to say "I'm sorry," he wanted to kiss her and make up, but it had been two long years. Two painful years.

"Good to see you've moved on," he choked on the words a little. He knew it was a lie.

"Really?" she looked over at him, that sarcastic and angry tone in her voice.

"No," he avoided looking her in the eye, "Not really."

She pulled a string of Christmas lights out of the bag. She threw her jacket down on the chair next to the bed, revealing the tight fitting black v-neck sweater and knee length black skirt she was wearing. She began to wind a string of Christmas lights around the end of the bed. "I'm not going to forgive you," she looked over at him, her eyes filled with tears.

"I'm not asking you to," he replied.

Mimi wiped her eyes and went back to the Christmas lights, wrapping them around the end of the bed. "You broke my heart," she looked over at him, his pale face, hollow cheek bones, and dark circles under his eyes stood out in the light. Her eyes were filling with tears. "Damn it, you broke my heart," she quickly swiped away the tears.

"I know…I'm sorry," he weakly replied.

* * *

The room was silent for a good fifteen minutes. Mimi hung up Christmas lights and garland. Roger fought his drooping eyelids.

"Meems?" Roger's voice barely carried across the room.

"What?" Mimi replied, annoyed.

"You remember my jacket? The one you took that day?"

"Yeah," she looked over at him, her voice weaker than before.

"Do you still have it?" he asked, his voice was just as fragile as he looked.

Mimi looked over. Her reply, "Yeah," was barely audible.

"Well, can you just check the inside pocket when you come across it again? I think I left something in there. I mean, you don't have to bring it back again…You don't even have to look if you don't want," he rambled incoherently for a few more seconds.

"No, I'll check," her reply was accompanied by a half smile. She went back to fixing the Christmas lights. She plugged them in and smiled as they all lit up and stood admiring her work. Well, at least it looked a little bit better than just a drab hospital room.

"Looks nice," Roger stated.

Mimi looked over at him, the pale lights reflecting against his skin. "Thanks," she smiled, a full one this time. She picked up the left over pieces of garland and threw them into the paper bag, and stuck it in the corner of the room. She sat down on the chair and stared idly at the lights, pretending there wasn't an awkward silence. A few minutes passed.

"So…" she sighed. "How's it been?" she looked over, her heart hurt a little as the entire situation had sunk in a little more.

"Fine…up until a few days ago," Roger replied.

Mimi nodded, the conversation stalled again.

"You?" he asked after a few moments of silence.

"Good," she nodded again. "Really good. Dan's great, I met him at a life support meeting about a year ago. He's kind of been my rock for a while…" she stopped as she saw his expression fade. Roger used to be her rock. "Where's Mark?" she asked, quickly changing the subject.

"Who knows," Roger shrugged, looking away.

"What? Is he okay?" Mimi asked, her expression looked concerned for the first time since she arrived.

"I'm sure he's fine. I haven't talked to him in over a month, but I'm sure he's fine. Going on, living."

"You mean he doesn't even know you're here?" Mimi got up and moved to the chair by Roger's bed.

"Nope. He's back in Scarsdale," Roger replied matter-of-factly.

"Wait, he moved back home with his parents?"

"No. He got married, got a real job, started a family…" Roger looked over at Mimi, her eyes wide. "Where were you?" he asked, spitefully.

"I'm sorry," her eyes were filling with tears. "Can't I call him? Something…"

"I don't know the number," Roger shrugged. "It doesn't matter anyway," his tired eyes covered up the hurt. He closed his eyes, trying to fight another wave of exhaustion.

"Yes it does," she replied softly, a tear or two escaping her eyes. She smiled as she watched him, her eyes were clouded with tears. His breathing became steady, he'd fallen asleep.

As she watched him sleep she couldn't help but think back to the night she left. She felt the regret wash over her like a wave. She couldn't take it after a few minutes. She stood up, grabbed her coat and quickly left a message on Dan's cell that she had finished the lights but wasn't feeling well and was heading back to the apartment. She looked over at Roger as she headed towards the door, pausing as her eyes filled up with tears again. She took a few more steps towards the door, but then moved to the side of his bed. She quickly kissed him on the forehead. Pulling away, she brushed away the tears that had escaped her eyes, adjusted the collar of her coat and headed for the door, looking back for just a second.

* * *

About an hour after leaving the hospital, Mimi was back in her apartment, sitting on the couch with Roger's old jacket in her lap. She fiddled with the broken zipper before running her hand along the top edge of the inner pocket. She felt something hard inside the lining of the pocket. She unzipped the pocket and pulled out a small diamond ring. As she examined it, tears sprung into her eyes. She carefully pulled off the ring Dan had given her and slid on the ring from Roger's jacket. She smiled as her eyes blurred with tears. Setting down the jacket, she reached for the phone to dial information.

"Hi, yes…I need the number for a Mark Cohen…" she looked up trying to stop the tears from falling. "Scarsdale, New York."

Roger woke up 6 hours later. Everything was a little bit blurrier than before. However, as his eyes scanned the room, he saw a familiar face at his bedside. It was Mark dressed in a suit with a blue and gray striped tie. While it wasn't the familiar scarf, he still knew it was him. He thought he was delirious for a minute. He was in fact, his fever had just spiked to over 104, but Mark really was there.

Mark sat with his face resting in his hands. He'd saved Roger so many times all these years, but he couldn't help but think that maybe he could have done a little bit more. However, little did Mark know, he was saving Roger for the last time--he wasn't letting him die alone.


End file.
